Home
by everyone'ssister
Summary: Directly after the events of 11:04 Dean can't seem to keep Baby off his mind, can Sam get her off? NOT WINCEST


Directly after the events of 11.04 "Baby" Dean can't seem to keep Baby off his mind can Sam help get her off? NO WINCEST.

HOME.

HOME.

It was the one thought that was omni-prest in Dean Winchester's mind.

Get Sam home.

Get Baby home.

Get his aching, bleeding body home to his memory foam mattress.

Easier said then done.

Sam sat, more like slumped, in the passenger seat beside him. Head against the window, leaving a bloody smudge. Hands lay in his lap, knuckles swollen and split open, shaking from the adreneline that was now fading. Dean eyed him warily, adding up his wounds, summing up the pain, trying to decide if Sam was "roughly" okay. Satisfied that Sam wasn't dying any time in the near future, he took stock of the car next.

Front and back sheilds were busted out, blood all over the seats and on the outside, multiple dents and bent peices too.

"Aw, you got all beat to hell, Baby," he murmered absently, in his for-some-reason befuddled mind forgeting Sam was there.

"Yeah, what happened to the car?" Sam asked, a lot clearer than Dean had thought possible, and sounding a lot bitchier than Sam was going for.

"Roadblock," Dean said shortly, honestly not sure how much longer he'd be articulate. Things were getting oddly hazzy, and he kept hearing this weird high-pitched buzz. He swipped his hand at an ear, it came away bloody. He huffed in frustraion and whipped the blood off on his pant leg.

"You hear that?" He asked Sam.

"What?" Sam asked. He had sat up and was looking better, color coming back with his usual calm, and whipping the blood from his face.

"I don't know, this agravating high-pitched squeal or something." Dean didn't understand why Sam couldn't hear it too, frankly, it was pissing him off. He didn't understand either why Sam looked up sharply at him or know that his words had come out in a slurred stream.

"You feeling alright, Dean?" Sam asked, untying his boot and slipping it off to expose a swollen ankle. Sprained not broken, he decided.

He now turned to his brother, eyes taking in all the cuts, bruises and blood on all exposed skin. No telling what kind of bruises he was sporting under his clothes.

"I do feel kinda' whoozy," Dean slurred, leaning a little too far over the steering wheel of the impala.

"Whoozy?" Sam made a face. Dean knew that word? "Since when does Dean Winchester feel whoozy?"

He was waiting for the expected snarky reply. but Dean was busy squinting his eyes, peering at the darkening asphalt. Sam was beginning to worry but decided to take some action when the impala started coasting to the wrong side of the road.

"Dean!" He said sharply.

Dean jumped and the car righted itself.

"Dean, stop the car." Sam said.

Dean winced at the volume of it. What did Sam want anyway...Sam's always wanting something, he thought affectionatly. Speaking of which, why was Sam's face all blurry? Why was the road all blurry...

"DEAN STOP THE CAR!" The LOUDNESS got through Dean's hazzy mind, his booted foot fell heavy on the brake and the impala skidded to a brutal stop. Sam bracing himself on the dashboard and barely keep Dean's forehead from bashing against the steering wheel.

Sam breathed heavily for a few seconds, thanking God they were still alive (Dean wasn't aware enough to hear him) He then turned his attention to Dean's still slumped over form.

Sam got no reaction when he called his brother's name. He used the hand on Dean's forehead to gently place his head back to lay ont he back of the seat, it was clearly the most abused part of his body. Dean's eyes were mere slits, slivers of unfocused dull green looking through Sam.

"Hey Dean," he said softly, hands coming away wet. He watched as sweat and blood ran down Dean's face and neck.

"S'm," Dean said, swallowing thickly, "D'nt think I should drive," his eyes drifted closed and then barely opened again.

Sam chuckled, "No you don't, but I wish you would have told me that before you almost killed us."

Dean's eyes opened wide, "Is Baby alright?"

Sam rolled his eyes, "She's no more marked up than she was."

"Oh yeah," Dean mused, his entire body sliding down the seat towards Sam, "She was all beat to hell."

"She still is," Sam stated dryly. There was a few moments of Dean blinking absently, before Sam clapped his hands together, making Dean wince.

"Alright, I'm driving."

He climbed out and drug Dean into his seat gently laying his head back on the seat. He ran around the car and climbed into the drivers seat, closing the door. He was about to start driving again when he noticed that Dean was already slumping towards him on the bench seat. Sam sighed and and grabbed Dean's shoulders and turning him so his head rested on Sam's thigh. Dean seemed more comfortable, eyes gliding open and shut in a relaxed manner.

Sam nearly floor the impala wanting to put some distance between them and werepires, dead and turned back as they were, and find them a decent motel where he and Dean wouldn't get sick or pick up an infection.

The impala was eating up the miles and Sam was praying nothing would fall off her while Dean was out of working order and Sam was guardian. Dean was still awake, though not very present, so Sam laid his hand in the center of his chest to keep him still and grounded.

After about an hour of speeding down interstate Dean started tossing aorund his head, and Sam knew with a concussion it had to hurt like a bitch.

"Dean, hold still man, we'll pull off in a bit." Sam assured softly, his hand coming up to cup the side of Dean's face.

To Sam's surprise Dean's now sparkling green eyes snapped up to his face.

"Hey, Dean," His eyes had to go back to the road, "Listen, we'll stop soon."

"S'all right S'mmy," he murmered huskily, "She still loves you."

"What?" Sam looked down to see Dean's eyes drifting shut again.

"Dean! What are you talking about?"

Dean lifted a sloppy hand and ran his sleeve under his nose.

"She still loves ya' S'mmy, even tho' yu'r pushin' her awful h'rd."

Sam unconsciencely slowed the car.

"Dean are you talking about the car?" Sam asked, slightly amazed, though not sure why.

"Poor Baby," Dean mumbled, "This hunt was hard on 'er."

Sam was smiling now, "Yeah, Dean" he soothed, "Look, I'm pulling off on an exit now. I'll find us a room and some food and hot wate..."

"SAM!" Dean yelled louder than Sam had thought possible.

"The f- Dean? What the hell?" He righted the impala where he had swerved with Dean's shout.

"You can't jus' leave Baby out in the 'elments, S'mmy. She worked hard too." Dean slurred, his hand coming up to rest affectionatly on the steering wheel...as Sam tried to turn.

"Dean! Get. Your. Hand. Off. The. Wheel!" Sam yelled at him, as they barely stayed on the road, missing trees by a hair.

Dean jerked his hand back like he had been burned, Sam grabbed it and pressed it down against his stomach.

"Stay put, Dean," he ground out, adreniline fading.

It was quiet for a few more more minutes then;

"S'alright S'm, she'll still love ya'."

Sam looked down quickly at the husky souind of his brother's voice and was shocked to see tears leaking form the corners of his eyes and disappearing into his hair line.

"Dean what-are you okay?" Sam was used to dealing with a concussed Dean, it kind of came along with the job, but seldom did it result with this Dean; crying, clingy Dean.

"She'll still love ya'," Dean nearly sobbed, "Even if ya' are mean."

Sam drew himself up defensivly even as his brain told him this was a fruitless argument about the affections of his brother's car.

"Dean, you are concussed, confused and bleeding over my lap, why would I be concerned about the damn car?" He says realizing to late he's talking much too loud for Dean's head.

"I know," Dean chokes out, "B...but she'll still love ya' 'cause she loves me."

Sam would need some time later to think through this theory, but for now he just wanted to soothe Dean. He was speeding bast bars and diners looking for a vacancy sign.

"Thant's good Dean, thanks. I know she loves you." He wanted to smack himself in the forehead knowing he sounded stupid. Dean, however, didn't seem to mind, a smile broke through his tears and Sam pulled into a hotel parking lot.

"She's always been there for me, y'know S'mmy?" He asked.

"Yeah, Dean, I do." Sam answered, digging for his wallet.

"I really, really do, d, do love her, but I love you more Sam, 'lways love you more."

Sam slid out from under Dean's head, opening the door, jumping out, shutting it and running around to the passenger side. He opened the door and Dean blinked at him.

"Always you f, first, S'mmy." He said firmly.

Sam smiled and grabbed hold of Dean's hands, " love you too, Dean. But for now, c'mon out, we're gonna' get a room."

He pulled Dean towards him, and he swayed in the seated position as Sam used some napkins and a bottled water to the clean the blood off his face and hands.

"Alright Dean, just walk with me into the lobby and then you can lay down again once we get the room, okay?" He asked, pulling Dean to his feet, but Dean face planted into Sam's chest. Sam grunted but smiled and righted his brother, pulling him slowly after him into the hotel. Dean stumbled along, Sam wasn't even sure how he was upright so he decided to just enjoy it and not explain it.

Sam was glad to leave the scrutinizing stare of the man at admission as he and Dean turned the corner down the hall. Once out of sight Dean leaned heavily against the wall.

"Gonna' need a hand here, Sam." He says, voice much cleared, the pain making him eighty percent more aware.

"Sure Dean." Sam responds. His arm snakes around Dean's waist. Somehow, Dean's not sure how, he gets an arm flung over Sam's neck. They reach the room and Sam inserts the key with Dean breathing heavily in his ear.

Once through the door and its shut behind them Dean goes down in front of it. Sam gently lays his head back against the wood. Sam drops their bags on a small table and turns back the bed fartherest from the door.

He leans down infront of Dean and gets his arm around Dean's waist again.

"Up we go," he grunts, suiting the action with the words. Dean grunts too, his feet barely finding purchase on the floor. They make it to the bed where Dean sways where Sam sat him down. He blinks larthargically at Sam's moving form gathering first-aide supplies and a warm, wet wash cloth.

Dean's vision is blurry but he can still make out Sam's pinched expression.

Guilt. Dean is all too familiar with it.

Sam is surprised when Dean's hand lands sloppily on his arm. In Dean's addled mind he knew Sam was blaming himself fore Dean's current physical demiss.

"S'm" he said, slurring again, "Its okay."

Sam huffed.

"Me its okay? YOU its okay!" he returned, feeling a little exasperated.

"I'm great, 'm a m, m'llion bucks," Dean says with a smirk on his bruised swollen face. And now that the blood is gone Sam can see just how pale his brother is.

Shit. Dean was bad, but apparently growing worse. Sam knelt down between Dean's legs and quickly undid the buttons of his over shirt, he pulled it off and and then t-shirt. Dean moaned as he raised his arms and the fabric scratched over the many wounds on his neck. Sam could see glass in those, he didn't miss the peices in Dean's scalp either.

Sam looks over Dean's shoulders and torso and frown at the glass embedded in the shoulders and the vivid bruising on his torso. Sam's gentle fingers skim over it, his middle finger catching an irregular hump. Dean groaned loud enough to make the dead rise.

"Shit," Sam said again.

"S'm," Dean whined, "H'rts."

"I bet," Sam grunted, "Looks like a horde of demons got a hold of you."

Dean's breath sharpened and his eyes dialated in panic. Sam was more than suprsied but tried to reason with him.

"Dean," he took his face in both of his hands forcing him to look him in the eyes. "Calm down, what is it?"

"Th, they," Dean's voice was breathless, his eyes skipping around the room.

"They got Baby."

Sam would have rolled his eyes if his brother hadn't been hypervenilating.

"Dean, no. You got her, remember, you came and picked me up?" Sam was starting to get nervous with the memory loss.

"NO," Dean said ademantly, "They got to 'er, they crashed her like...three times..." here he got distracted scrutinizing his hand with which he had held up three fingers. He shook his head, apparently trying to clear his vision.

"Three times," he said again, "I'm h'rt." This came out like Dean was VERY sure.

Finally Sam understood what Dean's confused brain was trying to get out. Three car wrecks, no telling how many beatings and hits to the head, Dean was hurting. His body sore and bruised from being thrown aorund the impala, glass imbedded in his skin. Sam pulled a thankfully prepared needle of pain meds from the first aide kit and gently puctured it into Dean's vein. His brother seemed in less pain after that.

But there was no time to enjoy it now, in front of Sam Dean was starting to sniff and Sam was broken-hearted to see the tears again. Drops glistening in front of Dean's sparkling confused eyes and then dripping down his face and over bruises to fall from his chin.

"Poor Baby." He wailed.

Oh my god, Sam thought. This was never ending. He began to methodically tweezer glass from Dean's skin.

"What're yu' doin' S'm?" He asked, after a little pause.

"Getting this glass out of you," Sam answered gently smiling, hurt Dean was cute sometimes.

"Glass? Glass isn't s'possed to be in me, S'm." Dean admonished, swaying precariously. Sam caught him by the shoulders.

"Hold on there budy, no running away yet."

"Not going any'ere S'm. Can't even h'rdly move." Dean made his point by falling forward, forehead landing int he center of Sam's chest.

Sam thought this way as good a way as any to finish the bandaging.

Sam chuckled but winced at the squeeshy sound when he pulled the last and biggest shard of glass from his brother's scalp.

Dean hissed wettly sounding like he was sucking salivia back into his mouth in the process.

"Shsh," Sam soothed, "That's the last of it."

"'lot of money," Dean nearly sobbed.

Sam hated when he cried anytime, but especially when he was hurt.

"What Dean?" He knew the best way to comfort a deliriuos Dean was to humor him.

"All that glass, 'lotta' glass S'mmy." He said, sniffing wetly.

"Its alright Dean, we'll get new glass for the car. It'll be perfectly fine."

"But, that's a lotta' money S'm." Dean was getting restless; he tried to push Sam away.

"Dean, hey," he grabbed his chin and forced him to rest his forehead on his shoulder.

"We will figure it out, we'll hustle the money or something, but right now you need to go to bed, okay?"

When Dean weakly nodded against his shoulder, Sam gave another relived, "Okay."

"What the hell, Dean!" Sam exclaimed, "Is this a bite?" He was staring at the bloody wound in his brother's neck. The skin was puffy, red and angry.

Dean gave an unconcerned shrug, "I think sh' bit me, d'nt member."

"Oh, she bit you alright. Why didn't you say anything? You could be turning into something for all we know!"

Sam was pouring holy water over the wound as he spoke. To his relief it only sizzled a little, but no black smoke, and Dean only flinched once. He continued running the water over it until no reaction came from the holy water.

Sam thanked his lucky stars he had prepeared sutures and a needle before Dean decied to use him as a pillow.

"I've got to give you a few stitches, Dean, " he said softly, tilting Dean head a little to the side.

"S'kay," Dean slurs, and Sam can feel salivia soaking through his shirt.

"I trust ya' S'm, s'kay.

"Yeah, alright," Sam smiled and threads the needle.

The needle goes in with no reaction from Dean, which tips Sam off just how much his head is throbbing. The neck wound is soon closed up, so is the gash in the back of his head.

"All done," he says, keeping his voice low.

"Tha's good, 'cause I was starting to feel it," Dean shifts is head against Sam's shoulder so he can lean it against his neck.

Sam laughs, and is surprised when Dean does too.

"What?" He asks.

"Feels funny," Dean mumbles.

"What feels funny," Sam leans to try and get a look in Dean's eyes.

"When you laugh," Dean answers, smiling against Sam's skin

Sam smiles too.

"Alright, you're golden and ready for bed." He slips his hands behind Dean's head and back and started to gently lower him to the pillows.

Dean's eyes go panicky wide.

"No, no, no, NO!" He objects, arms and hands flailing wildly until they land surprisingly strong on Sam's shoudlers.

Sam sighed. He thought the battle was over.

"What the-" he muttered. "Dean." he said firmly. "Dean, its time for you to lay down, go to sleep. Dean..."

But Dean continued to fight his brother until he managed to sit up again and then he had to latch onto Sam to keep upright.

"Dean, what are you doing?' Sam asked tiredly.

"S'm,' he managed, while heaving big breaths.

"I got 'er? They had 'er. S'm?"

Sam gave a huge sigh, but it was impossible to deny those huge green eyes.

"You got her back Dean, remember you came and got me?"

He started to lean Dena backwards again, "Just go to sleep Dean, the car will be waiting for you in the morning."

Dean was fighting him quite admirably. Leaning all his weight forward so Sam couldn't get him back.

"Don't 'member S'mmy," he mumbled, and Sam ran fingers through his hair stressfully as the tears started again. "D'nt member S'm, wh're is she?"

OH MY GOD! Sam mouthed over Dean's head, as he let it fall to Sam's chest again.

"She's just outside Dean," he reassured softly. "She'll be waiting for you in the morning."

"Don't member S'm," he cried into his shirt. "Let me see, S'mmy pl'z."

"See what?" Sam asked, honestly at a loss.

"I knew it!" Dean wailed. "She's not there is she?"

"No...Dean," Sam got it only too late, now he was at a loss for words.

"She's there alright? Just... you need to go to sleep." Sam found himself smoothing Dean hair from his sweaty forehead and trying to look into Dean eyes to check his dialation.

"Then let me see!" Dean demanded, sounding dangerously close to a petulant child.

"Okay!" Sam declared, giving up. Dean cringed at his rasied tone and Sam felt guitly.

He stood, pulled Dean up slowly with him. Sam felt he was supporting most of Dean's weight and mentally slapped himself in the face. This is a bad idea Sam, he reprimanded himself.

Sam placed Dean's arm over his neck and then and wrapped his around Dean waist. Then they started the long treck to the front window.

The tops of Dean's toes drug along the rough carpet with every step. And if Sam didn't know better he'd have said Dean was doing it just to be bitchy. But he knew by the weight he was bearing Dean was barely keeping his eyes open let alone pick up his feeet properly.

Halfway across the room Dean's head fell back to Sam's shoulder, but his feet kept moving so Sam kept on. He felt sweat and the shakes break out on his brother body.

Dean's muddled mind was focused on one thing only and that was the panicked thought of, had he crashed the impala after the werepires had defiled her? He was driving, and then he remembered not driving. Did he wreck the impala? OH MY GO- Sama was there too, was Sam alright, did he hurt Sam?

Then they were at the window and Dean was pressing his face aginast the cool glass. Thank you god...there she was gleaming under the moonlight. Sure a little dusty and dented but she was there just like Sam had said.

"S'm," he managed out, hand hovering over his chest and stomach looking for blood.

"You alright, S'mmy?" Sam made a strange sound in his throat but seemed alright.

"Yeah, I'm good Dean," he answered softly, pulling him gently form the window.

"I'm alright," he reassured as Dean hesitated.

"We good to go to bed now, bro?" Dean grunted and Sam turned them back towards the bed.

When Sam had heard Dean's slurred question after all the worry over the impala tears leapt to his eyes. He should have know Dean would have been worried about him. It stood to figure Dean didn't remember much so he was scared he had crashed the impala and in doing so scared he had hurt Sam in the process. Reassuring himself that the impala was in one piece was one and the same as reassuring himself that Sam was in one piece too.

"Yeah, we're okay," Sam soothed as he sat Dean back on the bed and gently leaned him back, stripped off his jeans, and pulled the covers up to his bare chest.

"We're okay," he softly said once again, as he smoothed Dean's hair from his forehead.

As Sam moved quietly around their room, salting the doors and windows, Dean eyes glided open and closed barely following Sam's moving form through blurry vision. His body was finally relaxed, pain was fading from the shot Sam had given him before the stitches. Sam's familiar presence would make even the strangest of places seem safe and warm.

He watches as Sam changed his dirty shirt and jeans for clean bed clothes, turned off the light and came to hover over him one last time before going to bed.

"S'm?"

"Yes, Dean?" A soft smile was pulling at Sam's lips. Dean's eyes were heavy, he was so close to sleep.

"Baby's nice, but I'd take you instead anytime."

"What?" Sam laughed, a little confused. He placed a glass of water beside the bed and pulled the blankets farther up Dean's body.

"Baby's nice, but you'll always be my h'me."

Dean's eyes finally floated closed in sleep and remained that way. Sam sigh affectionatly in relief.

"You moron," he whispered, "I meant there in the impala with YOU."

He pressed his smiling lips to Dean's forehead in a kiss Dean would never know about, so he could never gripe about it.

...they were both home.


End file.
